The Most Important Lesson I’ve Taught My Kids

Believe in Magic.

November 3, 2014 |

I am an unashamedly passionate fan of the Tooth Fairy, the Dummy Fairy (or Pacifier Fairy, if you prefer) and every other fairy that needs to visit my home. By extension, this makes me someone who has no issue with copious amounts of glitter sprinkled around my house. Yes, it gets in the carpets and stays there for an inordinate amount of time. Yes, it transfers itself on to clothes, the dog, my children’s scalps and just about everywhere else. Yes, it pretty much becomes part of the furniture.

Why do I love the herpes of the craft world so much?

Glitter seems to be the pet hate of most parents and you’re most likely scratching your head and wondering how on earth I could be a fan of the stuff. I’m not insane, I can assure you. In fact, my reasons are surprisingly rational.

What does this have to do with glitter and fairies, you ask?

As a mum, my job is to teach my children the things they need to know to survive and thrive in this world. A lot is written about toilet training and teaching our kids to ride a bike, how to read and write and add and if/when/how to tackle sex education. Not much is written about teaching our kids to believe in magic.

As far as I’m concerned, this is the single most important skill I can teach my children.

By creating a world for them where they get to experience the magic of fantasy, I’m teaching them to believe in more than just what they see before their eyes. This gives them the ability to open their minds to possibilities outside of their existing reality, which enables them to learn complex concepts. It gives them the impetus to explore the unknown and the drive to be adventurous in their pursuit of knowledge.

Without magic, would the Wright brothers have dared to attempt to realise their dream of flight? Their ability to suspend society’s popular disbelief in this ‘magic’ changed the world enormously. Their imagination and belief in the impossible has gifted my children with the ability to meet their grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins across the world. Can you imagine a world without the freedom that fantasy of flights given you?

Without magic, would Edison have dreamed up the lightbulb? Would we have the internet? Was it not the belief in the impossible that led to the telephone, then mobile phones, then the computers we call smartphones that allow us to magically connect with people around the world in a way nobody could have conceived of just fifty years ago?

These things are not magic, of course.

We know how they work and we understand the science and mechanics behind them. What we don’t acknowledge nearly enough is the imagination that sparked these inventions to be realised in the first place. Without the ability to dive into a fantasy world and imagine things that didn’t exist (absurd and impossible ideas at that), many of the realities we enjoy and take for granted would never have ever been invented. Without the power of imagination and fantasy, we’d still be cavemen.

In this life of mine, I’ve learned that if I only acknowledge the concrete, tangible things, I’ll experience a world that is unpleasant, cold and stagnant. Magic is what makes it all turn around. If you look, it’s clear to see. It’s in the vaccine delivered to poverty-stricken children because someone dreamed up the internet and someone else dreamed up social networking and someone else dreamed up a way of using these tools to reach you, who in turn donated money. Magic is in the beautiful rainbow that appears on a rainless day, just as I think about how much I am missing my nephew who passed away. Magic is in the eyes of your child as he tells you that he can do anything. What incredible power we have, as parents, to nurture the growth of our children’s imaginations. What a massive responsibility we have, too, to guard that world of fantasy and stop the world from teaching our kids to only see what is in front of their eyes.

A few weeks ago, Miss M lost a tooth. She is eleven years old and treading that swaying bridge between childhood and adolescence on shaky feet. With tooth in hand, she approached me for a private chat.

“Mum, I want to ask you something”, she quietly said.

“Sure”, I replied.

“I am eleven now and I know that… well, I kinda know that there’s no Tooth Fairy…” She said this with sad eyes and an uneasy tone.

I replied, “I think I know why you look sad. Is it because you don’t want there to be no Tooth Fairy, right?” I realised that, though she knew intellectually that there was no Tooth Fairy, the idea of losing a tooth without the magic of that fictional character was really quite sad.

She nodded. “I know fairies aren’t real but I’m kinda sad because it was fun and exciting when I was little and I believed in that stuff, Mum.”

“Well”, I said, “How about you ask Baby G to help you to write the letter to the Tooth Fairy and then maybe the Tooth Fairy will still visit when you guys are sleeping… you know, for Baby G to believe?” I asked, with a wink.

“Ohhh, cool! Because Baby G is still little and she needs the Tooth Fairy to be real, doesn’t she?” She smiled, glad for a reason to extend the magic just a bit longer.

That afternoon, Miss M supervised as Baby G wrote the sweetest letter to Flossie the Tooth Fairy on her big sister’s behalf. That night, Flossie sprinkled copious amounts of glitter from the front door all the way to the bedroom where both sisters were sleeping. She may have also visited Little Man and dabbed vaseline on to all of their cheeks and sprinkled them with glitter too.

The next morning, three kids came running to show me the gems and jewels and glitter covered coin that the Tooth Fairy had left. Little Man and Baby G’s eyes were filled with wonder. Miss M’s face was filled with happiness. Suddenly, Baby G gasped as she reached up to touch her big sister’s cheek.

“Look! She KISSED you!”

Miss M looked in the mirror and found the vaseline dab, covered with glitter, and smiled.

“Of course she did”, she grinned. Then, winking at me, she told Baby G, “Look at your cheek – she kissed you too!”

I realised then, in their squeals and hugs and all that glitter, magic most certainly was there, even for Miss M. She had learned that there is magic to be found in showing it’s possibility to others.

I’ll never get the glitter out of my carpets and, frankly, I’m fine with that. The world needs more glitter and I’m happy to deliver it by the bucketload.

PIN FOR LATER:

This post is the part of my first attempt to take part in BlogHer’s NaBloPoMo (National Blog Post Month). It is going to be a huge challenge for me to publish a post every day of the month of November but I will give it my all. I hope you’ll join me for the ride.

If you liked this post, please share it with your friends using the icons below, and I’ll love you intensely if you comment, so please don’t be shy (comments make me do a happy dance). You can also join the fun on Facebook, Pinterest and Twitter.

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About Michelle Lewsen

Michelle Lewsen is a copywriter with 18 years’ experience and a few shiny advertising awards. Now, as mum to three highly entertaining and thoroughly demanding little people, she writes to make sense of her life as a stay at home mother.

Her hope is that by sharing her imperfect parenting, struggles with work-life balance and the often laugh-out-loud chaos that her Adult ADHD brings, other imperfect parents can visit theycallmemummy.com to exhale and say, “me too.”

They Call Me Mummy has been honoured with many awards, making her a very proud mama of this blog baby of hers. Most notably, she was honoured as a Voice of the Year by BlogHer in 2013 (“Inspiration” category) and again in 2014 (“Heart” category).

This blog captures her life. Sometimes warm & fuzzy, sometimes shriek-out-loud funny. In her spare time, she's been writing a series of children’s books, which are going to knock your socks off. Your kids are going to adore them, so watch this space.

I absolutely love this!
People around me are still in shock that my son has a Santa sleigh bell(Polar Express), and my son loves the faeries(though he politely asked her to not sprinkle him with glitter, as it’s hard to get out of his hair in the morning when he has to get ready for school).
I shrug and say, “I’m sorry the magic has faded. Maybe if I wish hard enough, it will come back for you.” and then walk away.

My son can believe as long as he wants(while telling me some rude driver has given me yet another half-peace salute), and I’ll keep on letting him. His smiles are addictive.

I once went to a party wearing a black outfit and all the bits of my skin that were visible were entirely covered in gold glitter eyeshadow. This stuff *stuck* to anything I touched, and it stuck good. Six months later I was still finding it in weird places. It was not awesome, and I was mostly banned from all things glitter by The Other Half from that point onwards.

I totally agree with you – the world needs more glitter.

As part of NaBloPoMo I try to comment on as many participating blogs as I can, and I also add participating blogs to my feed reader.

So I’m just dropping by to let you know I’ve added your blog to my feedreader, I’m reading you loud and clear, I have a link up going at my place so my readers can find participating blogs which you are more than welcome to add your blog link to.

Looking forward to seeing your posts, and you’ll likely see me drop by again during November.

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Welcome to They Call Me Mummy! My hope is that by sharing my less-than-perfect parenting moments, struggles with identity as someone other than The Mother and the often laugh-out-loud chaos that my Adult ADHD brings to my life, They Call Me Mummy can be a place where other imperfect parents can come to exhale and say, "me too."